SaBaKa
by BlackLadyCharon
Summary: when the wheel spins and Ba and Ka are melded, what is the Sa, the part that protects, to do 5000 years later?
1. Prologue

Author's Notes: Well, this is an entirely new screw up, but it ought to be interesting at least. Getting back into some of my old obsessions, I present you my latest universal collision. Read it and weep, laugh, congratulate or flame me. I welcome all comers. *Crazed laughter.* Note, I gave up on translating anything into Egyptian since I can't find a complete translator for it any fucking where on the 'net that doesn't charge me for it. Hell, translating it from Arabic letters to English ones was a pain in the ass…

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter, don't own Yu-Gi-Oh, or else Bakura would not have gotten royally fucked over by Zorc. No money is being made off of this, so suing me is a waste of time.

Sa-Ba-Ka

By: BlackLadyCharon

Prolouge

The wheel of fate spins, a Ka is mended by a Ba, no longer mortal, forever bound in servitude. But what of the mortal part? Discarded, no longer protecting or protected by two thirds of itself, what happens to the Sa of that shattered mage?

_What becomes of the mortal part just as bound by fate and duty? The shell left behind, with only the dregs of its magic and spirit and blood. Mere instinct, without rhyme or reason? What happens to that final third?_

_What indeed?_

Godric's Hollow, All Hallow's Eve, 19XX

The child self pulled at the bars, forcing his chubby frame upright, staring. He sensed something. Something tainted, cruel and rapacious and ever hungry, and it was coming closer. He knew that he didn't like things like that, they made everything so much more complicated. Complicated for him, for others, and they made messes too. He knew that he was in charge of cleaning up messes tainted things made. Tainted Ka's, tainted Ba's, even tainted Sa's, they were all the same in the end. Then Mama came, screaming and crying, and the tainted one came as well.

"Not Harry! Please not Harry!" He could have told her that the tainted one wasn't going to listen to hysterical crying. It was tainted, after all. Even cleansing wouldn't work on this one, but he had no words in her language. Even the few half clear words he'd managed in what he remembered as his language didn't translate well into this one. And the tainted one, its soul carved into bloody ruins, lost interest and patience with Mama, and blasted her. Then it looked at him. He bared his teeth, reaching out for words, not in sound but in mind.

'ʻ_Ālm az-Zlāl Fy Hdhh as-Sā'h ash-Shfq' al-Āstmā' 'Lá Rghbty Wmnh Ly as-Slţh…' _The tainted one raised a stick at him, acid green light flaring.

"Avada Kedavra!" In the instant that the spell should have struck, a killing blow if his eyes told him true, his cry was answered. The other interposed itself, the spell slashing through it and gashing his face, causing him to wail in insulted fury as it advanced, hissing curses and promises toward the tainted one, who was firing spell upon spell to harm it, weakening the structure of the house around him instead. The other smiled, cold and razor sharp and 5000 thousand **YEARS** since he'd last spoken and oh how it hurt but it was what he needed to do to get rid of this tainted one until he was strong enough to start piecing himself back together and deal with him once and for all…

"Dāku mahō kōgeki."

And the roof came down upon them.

TBC…

Ending notes: Yes, it's short, but it's a prologue, not the whole bloody thing in one go. I'm not that crazy, to try and do a story that bridges that much in one go, or one chapter.

Translations:

Ālm az-Zlāl Fy Hdhh as-Sā'h ash-Shfq' al-Āstmā' 'Lá Rghbty Wmnh Ly as-Slţh - In this world of shadows at twilight, listening to my desire and giving me the authority, which was as close as I could get to 'Realm of Shadows in this twilight hour, hear my wish and grant me power', according to several Arabic translation sites

Dāku mahō kōgeki – Dark Magic attack, in Japanese according to Google translator. I think the damned thing screwed up, but I'm not in the mood to chase the bloody phrase down properly…


	2. Chapter 1

Author's Notes: *Plays with her Dark Magician, humming to herself**.*** Well, here's the first chapter of this, with more Harry as the Dark Magician shenanigans. This is fun for me in that I get to see Harry in an entirely different light, and it helps me focus on quirks in his nature and expound upon him. As before, any and all comer's are welcome, and I couldn't give a flying fig if you flame me or not.

Note Secundus: I had about a paragraph on this originally, but I changed my mind on how it was going and scrapped it. These two have remarkably strong opinions and who and what they are going to be.

Music to listen to during this:

Through Glass – Stone Sour

E for Extinction – Thousand Foot Krutch

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter, don't own Yu-Gi-Oh, or else Bakura would not have gotten royally fucked over by Zorc. No money is being made off of this, so suing me is a waste of time.

'_Sa Ba Ka' _– Harry/Hikari thinking at a Yami

'_**Sa Ba Ka**_' – Yami thinking at a Hikari/Harry

_Sa Ba Ka - _Plain thought thoughts

Sa-Ba-Ka

By: BlackLadyCharon

Chapter 1

Five year old Harry Potter was a strange child, in Mrs. Figg's opinion. He preferred to watch informative shows as opposed to cartoons. He politely turned down sweets unless it was a special occasion, and even then it was clear he only ate them to appease her. He watched the other children instead of playing with them, unless there was a game in the offing. And he tended to be good at them, though she suspected he threw the games when Dudley played. He treated her cats with an unconscious reverence. She didn't know what to make of him. And currently he was sitting in the garden, watching and talking to something she couldn't see.

If she thought she'd have gotten any help from him, she'd have told Dumbledore immediately. Still, whatever it was, if it wasn't just an imaginary friend, didn't seem to be harming the boy, so she let things lie.

(IamalinebreakIamalinebreak)

'_**This is Akh, the symbol to prevent a second death.**_' Dark green eyes studied the pattern drawn magically on the shadowed ground where his Other stood, then narrowed.

'_Maha, how's it different from Ankh or Ahket? They all sound similar, so why aren't they all in the same family?'_ Slate eyes narrowed and the mage shrugged, unsure of how to answer his younger Self. His memories were scattered, fragmented and shattered, and he wasn't even sure Maha was his name. It was what had come to his mind when Harry, his Self had asked him what he was called. As the child had pointed out, he couldn't call Maha 'Other' forever. Not that it truly mattered to him, he would answer to either. Still, it made Harry happy to have something to call him on dark nights when the nightmares came in green light and painful fear, and pleasing his Self pleased Maha.

_**'Does it matter, Harry? Why do you have two different spellings of a word that sounds the same but means something entirely different? See and Sea, for example, or by and buy? You just do, is all. Now, do you want to continue lessons, or must I go and spy on the Beasts again?' **_The Beasts were how Maha referred to the 'family' that had taken them in after the Incident. Though he had trouble remembering the Incident now, and he was fairly certain he no longer looked exactly as he had then. He recalled armor, and a far stronger body, adult and not half grown child as he looked now. Self affected Other, Other affected Self as far as Maha could tell. He could teach Harry, and his knowledge and need to learn rubbed off on his Self, but how Harry saw his Other was in reflection of his Self, thus lessening his age and powers to closer match. Still, it was a close bond, something Maha knew he had longed for and missed for far too long.

The Beasts, however, annoyed him. The spoiled hippo, the bellowing bull, and the nasty okapi with her prodding and yammering demands. They had started to treat his Other like a slave, making unreasonable demands. A five year old child could not prepare a grand feast, indeed would have been allowed nothing more then to help sort vegetables into some semblance of order or to chase animals away, but they ordered him to do so. To weed the gardens when Harry could no more tell weed from flower, and to withhold food if he failed. Thankfully, both he and Maha were quick learners.

_'No, Maha I…'_ Anything farther was forestalled by the arrival of the okapi, braying and nagging like the beast Maha thought of her as.

"Boy! Don't think you can just laze about out there! Vernon expects his meals on time, so you'd better start cooking!" As Harry trudged towards the house, Maha followed, an angry snarl twisting his lips. So many saw, but all turned eyes away, even Mrs. Figg who was sometimes put in charge of them. So many saw, but did nothing to help, convinced it was not their problem. But Maha knew, and Maha felt something respond, first in tentative flutters, but more strongly now, as if it became aware of his needs and desires to protect his Other. Across his lips a cruel smile spread, and lines of smoky darkness trailed around his hands and wreathed his face, outlining his eyes.

Oh yes, Maha would do something about this. Now. Before worse occurred and his Other was nothing more then a beaten shell of a child.

(IamalinebreakIamalinebreak)

Dudley's dreams were spoiled and pathetic, usually. He dreamed of new shiny toys to replace the others he broke on a regular basis, of mounds upon mounds of sweets, and of his favorite game. His favorite game was called Thumping on the Freak, and he enjoyed it very much. His father was always proud of him when he thumped the freak, and that meant even more gifts. So he didn't understand this dream. Endless dunes of sand under a starry sky without a moon, the light thin and wavering. It scared him.

_**'Not much fun, is it? To be the hunted Little Hippo? How do you think your cousin feels?'**_ Dudley stumbled from a hard push, and then looked up at the one who'd sent him tumbling down the dune. The strange boy looked a little like the freak in build and in face, though he was a few years older, and his hair was brown instead of black, longer then Mummy allowed the freaks to grow, and his eyes were a cold slate color. He wore shiny looking black cloth pants that billowed around his legs and slipper shoes, and a heavy shirt in white, the left sleeve coming down to his wrist with heavy belts buckled to it at even intervals down it, the right sleeve missing entirely, with a heavy platinum band at that wrist. A black torque covered his neck, and the long hair was pulled back, making his face, with the eyes outlined with some black substance, look eerie and cruel. The strange freak's lips twisted in a snarl, and something like black shadows lashed out, forcing Dudley to dodge.

_**'Answer me! Not much fun, is it? Not much fun to be tormented and chased? Even less so to be kept hungry, given tasks an adult should be doing! Yet you sit there, you overgrown tub of lard and torture him!'**_ Dudley whimpered and dodged the strikes as best he could, but many of them caught him anyway. He wailed and blubbered, and the disgust in the strange freak's eyes grew.

_**'Pathetic, a waste of life and Sa and Ba, no Ka would ever answer such a weak one's call. I ought to destroy you now, to spare the Gods the trouble of listening to a long list of wrongs that you insist were perfectly right.'**_ Dudley had collapsed, sniveling, and cringed away when he heard the slipping of sand that signified this new freak was coming closer.

"P-Please! I'm sorry! Don't hurt me!" The freak squatted down, lifting Dudley's face in both his hands, eyes unreadable. After a small eternity, his eyes seemed to soften a little.

_**'Perhaps I am not entirely correct. Perhaps you are not completely irredeemable. You have been ill taught, but that is your Elders fault, not yours. One should not exact the most horrendous punishments solely for that. But you will have to change, to start standing up for what is right, not merely what is convenient for you. To insist that your cousin be treated fairly and equally. Can you do that, Little Hippo?'**_ Dudley stared into the freak's… no the other boy's eyes, and saw the truth there. He saw himself, far too much flesh that jiggled like jelly and snot and tear streaked face, and didn't like what he saw. Hesitantly, he nodded, and the stranger released his face.

_**'Good, you can learn and change. See that you remember this. If I have to come back,'**_ the eyes narrowed and went colder and Dudley was hard put not to wet himself. _**'I will not be so merciful a second time.' **_And with that, the stranger was gone.

Dudley woke in the morning with bruises in the places the shadow things of the Stranger had struck to tell him it hadn't been only a dream.

(IamalinebreakIamalinebreak)

Petunia Dursley wasn't sure if it was a dream or not. It had the faintly surreal feeling of a dream, but at the same time it felt far too real. Her living room, tidy as always, the sounds of Dudley fiddling around upstairs and Vernon grumbling in the hall, but a boy who looked vaguely like her nephew stood there, head craning about. But there was something disturbing about him, something broken and agonized and wrong. Petunia took in the rather strange clothing, then she finally realized what was upsetting her. Around the boy, shadows twisted and churned, and when he turned his slate eyes to her, she backed away. The boy smiled, and it reminded Petunia of razor blades, sharp and shining and cutting and uncaringly cruel.

_**'Uncaring? I assure you, Yammering Okapi, I care a great deal about a great many things. Cruel?'**_ The boy's head tilted, long ponytail brushing down the back of his neck. _**'Well, I suppose I am cruel in a way, but far less cruel then you are.'**_ Petunia hardly wondered how he could hear her thoughts, it was a dream, after all, and drew herself up.

"You spoiled little brat, who are you to call me cruel?" The fury that followed her comment nearly knocked her over.

_**'The one who watches as you treat a child of your own bloodline like filth! Who sees as you treat him like nothing but a common stone, you who gives not a thought to the gift she has been given! All for a petty grudge against one who can no longer hear or see or speak to defend herself! All because you were not Mage born as your sister was!'**_ Petunia stood up, intent on slapping the boy, but found herself just screaming at him instead.

"Shut up! It was always about Lily! Always! Special Lily, precious Lily, gifted Lily! Not ever for me!" The boy tilted his head again. After a few seconds of silence, he 'spoke' again. The question shocked her to the bone.

_**'And what did being special and gifted gain your sister? Nothing but an early grave, because she wasn't 'Pure' enough. Her magic did not save her life, did not keep her here to raise her son. Yet if the situations had been reversed, and it had been your son orphaned and alone, she would doubtless have treated him far better then you treat her son. You are not Mage gifted, it is true, but your life is strong, and you have the chance to do what few can, and shape the future of not one Man of Power, but two.' **_A wave of his hand and two statues appeared on the carpet in battered granite, one of Dudley and one of Harry. _**'Would you have them be nothing but common stone Yammering Okapi, broken and weathered and of worth only to a few?'**_ Another wave, and shining diamond replaced the granite in a shimmering wave. _**'Or would you have them be diamond bright and strong, proof of your accomplishments whose names are spoken by people in their respective fields with reverence far beyond their lives and yours? That is a power, a magic far beyond what waving a stick or a hand and mouthing words in dead languages is.'**_ Petunia stared at the boy, turning these new thoughts over and over in her head. He was right, being a witch hadn't kept Lily alive, hadn't given her a long life and many children. Only one child, whose life could be a testament to Petunia's ability to love and lay aside grudges, if only she would try.

"Maybe… maybe you're right. The boy doesn't deserve to bear what I've been putting him through." The answering smile from the boy left her nearly breathless. If the first smile had been razor blades, this one was stolen from angels.

_**'This begins to show me that I had far more to work with then I originally had thought. The Gods are kinder then usual.'**_ He twisted his hands, and a flower bloomed within them, purple red and delicate. _**'The Amaranth, the undying symbolizes much. May it symbolize that your new views are undying, and that you continue to see the truth of them.'**_ With a gallant little flourish, he handed the bloom to her.

It was still in her hands when she woke up.

(IamalinebreakIamalinebreak)

While there was something there to work with in both Dudley and Petunia Dursley, Vernon Dursley was a man that could not be persuaded to see the universe in any way but what he thought was right. There was no room in his small, self important mind for anything but his own moral code, and freaks were evil and dirty and filthy. Dreams were to be of the day he took over Grunnings completely and fired all the incompetents and half wits who were dragging it down. The complete darkness and the glaring boy weren't acceptable, thereforth. The fact that the boy bore a striking resemblance to the freak was even less so. And so, unwisely, Vernon lashed out, meaty fist striking the boy's face and sending him flying backwards.

And in doing so sealed his fate.

The boy rose, face already darkening into a bruise, eyes wide and staring and utterly insane, causing Vernon to step backwards.

**_'You know, until you did that, I was going to let you remain alive and healthy and sane. Now,'_** teeth were bared in a crazed snarl, and things began crawling into existence around him, coming closer and closer. _**'Now I am far less inclined to be anything but as harsh and judgmental as you yourself are.' **_With that, the boy turned and left as the things moved in for the kill.

Vernon Dursley's body woke and breathed and gibbered incoherently, but his mind and soul never again returned.

And Maha couldn't bring himself to feel sorry about it.

(IamachapterendIamachapterend)

Closing Notes: And here we see interaction, and such. I chose Maha for the Dark Magician part of Harry's new name because it's part of the original priest's name, but simple enough that both can remember it. I don't know if the dreams ring quite right, but I wanted the bond between Maha and Harry to at this point in their existence mimic the Yami/Hikari bond the others have, and while I feel that there is something redeemable both in Dudley, who is a product of his upbringing, and in Petunia, who kept Harry when she could have easily turned him away to die, Vernon just doesn't have that, so Maha got to go properly Yami on him and turn him into a drooling husk. Reviews are nice, and if you really want to see more relatively fast and hopefully coherent, go and poke the private message button and harass me, that might get faster results.


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